


The Beauty and The Beast

by Sweetie_T



Series: Fairy Tales Revisited [1]
Category: Fairy Tales - Fandom
Genre: Beauty and the Beast, F/M, Gen, Original interpretation of classic story, Rated T for graphic depictions of injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:12:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetie_T/pseuds/Sweetie_T
Summary: A ranger is injured and makes his way to a mysterious overgrown manor. There he meets the occupant, and she is more beast than woman.





	The Beauty and The Beast

**Author's Note:**

> One of the stories from my fairy tale series. I wanted to write the classics with gender roles reversed- girl saves guy, that sort of thing.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Love & Kisses
> 
> \- Sweetie

\-----  
\-----  
\-----

Once upon a time... 

There was a kind, gentle witch with green eyes so deep and disarming they could (and sometimes did) charm the most vicious of beasts. She lived happily on the outskirts of a bustling village. All of the people adored her, and she them. She spent her time socializing, communing with nature, distributing healing potions, concocting magical growing potions for the village crops, and caring for the local orphans.

She also had a cat, of sorts, that loitered about her manor. It was large and black, with green eyes like her own. It was beautiful and strong, but it was also completely feral. She would leave food out for it and if she was very quiet and very still for a very long time it would occasionally let her watch it eat. She tried to touch it once and was rewarded with a suddenly frenzied, violent, crazed animal and several deep scratches and bite wounds on her forearms.

She had never before had such trouble charming an animal and it disturbed her that this creature mistrusted her so. She decided to do something about it. She spent two full months gathering herbs, studying her vast collection of spell books, and crafting a charm that would, with some luck, allow her and the cat to kindle a friendship. Or at least come to a place of mutual trust and understanding.

...

Whispers filled the village about the kind and generous witch whom no one had seen in ages. The people wondered what could have possibly happened to her. It was curious that no one seemed to remember the way to her manor, the last time they had laid eyes on her, or even her name. Before long, no one could remember her at all.

 

\-----

 

A ranger named Dashing concentrated on his task, trying his best to fashion a makeshift splint for his fractured leg. He was usually very good at his calling; tracking prey, gathering herbs and healing animals. He enjoyed the freedom of being nomadic, but at the same time it was a lonely existence. He had no real home to speak of and the only human contact he ever had was when he would pass through a village and someone would ask him to take on an errand- finding lost livestock, gathering rare potions ingredients, defeating wild beasts that had developed a taste for human blood.

He was arguably one of the best rangers in the realms, but today was not his best day. He was tracking a boar through thick woods when he missed a step near the top of a steep hill and before he knew it he was on his back on the bottom of it, his leg clearly broken from the impact with a boulder on his trip down. While grateful it was only his leg shattered and not his skull, he was still frustrated with himself and the situation.

His frustration took on a keen edge when he realized his pack had separated from his person upon falling. He could see the corner of the leather satchel peeking over the top of the offending boulder, taunting him as he had no hope of climbing for it on his bad leg.

To make matters worse, it had been raining all day and the only wood for as far as he could see was sodden. Even with his experience and skill in the wilds he couldn't hope to start a fire with dripping kindling. He had no desire to lay himself out like a feast for the nocturnal predators he knew inhabited this part of the woods with not even a spark of a flame for protection.

Which was how he found himself, half blind from the pain, clumsily dressing his wound and fortunately finding a sturdy branch just within his reach to use as a crutch.

He closed his eyes and stilled his breath and used his formidable memory to visualize the surrounding area in minute detail, hoping he would remember passing a cave or a rocky outcropping not too terribly far back.

As the images of the mountains and woods flashed through his mind he began to realize something strange... There was a path. It was badly overgrown and any less experienced ranger would have missed it completely. He almost had.

Dash gritted his teeth and began limping along the barely-beaten trail, hoping against hope that it led somewhere sheltered, and that he could make it there before nightfall.

\-----

Limping at a snail's pace, he eventually spotted an overgrown, disheveled manor atop a steep hill, just as the sun dipped behind the distant mountains. He uttered a soft curse and unsheathed his knife, gripping it in the hand not clutching the branch, his pace as fast as he could make it while using the light of the moon and stars to avoid breaking his other leg on stones, roots and holes.

He had gone only a little way before he felt the weight of eyes upon him. He knew better than to run and so continued normally, listening to the subtle sounds of a skillful predator pursuing him, easily matching his creeping pace. Pinpointing the position of the creature hunting him, he imperceptibly turned his head, expecting to see a wolf or a mountain lion. He was disconcerted to see nothing but shadows.

The hidden predator followed him as he battled his way up the punishingly steep, rocky hill. He looked for it several times, confident he knew its exact location, but each time he was met with only shadows. He was not generally a superstitious man, but by the time he shouldered his way through the stiff-hinged doors of the manor his heart was pounding and he was convinced he was being hunted by a vengeful spirit.

Dash was surprised to find the abandoned manor bathed in warm flickering light from a large fireplace sunk along one wall. Someone obviously resided here. "Hello?... My name is Dashing... I am injured..." He called into emptiness. When there was no response he called again, waiting several long moments in silence.

He assumed the lord of the manor had just gone to bed, and he did not care to disturb him. At the same time, this was his only option for shelter, and he was not about to head back into the dark where the predatory spirit lurked. He made his way, limping, to the sofa before the fire. He noticed a small side table laid with meat, cheese, wine and fruit. He was almost certain the table had been empty when he first entered, but being pursued by a ghost had him questioning his senses. Perhaps his injured leg was making him delirious.

He gratefully ate the simple meal, propped his injured leg up on the sofa cushions, and was soon fast asleep, comforted by his oldest and most treasured dream, a pair of gentle green eyes he could never quite place.

He slept well and restfully, blissfully unaware of the enormous black leopard that watched him from the shadows.

\-----

He awoke suddenly to a sharp, cold sensation against his throat. He opened his eyes to see a delicate hand clutching a wicked looking dagger, pressing it to his skin so firmly he was afraid to breathe.

A harsh, cold voice hissed in his face, "Why are you in my home?"

The pressure on his throat eased slightly, enough for him to swallow hard, twice, before gasping out an answer. "I... I was injured... In the woods... I fo... followed the path..."

He was abruptly interrupted by the dagger threatening his breath again, this time he felt a tickle of blood run down his neck. The chilling voice spoke again.

"There is no path! Do. Not. Lie to me!" The voice crescendoed in a shriek that hurt his ears and curdled his blood, then dropped to a murderous, low growl. "Explain yourself." The dagger eased again and once more he could breathe.

He swallowed again. "I am a very experienced ranger. The path is overgrown, nearly gone, but I noticed it was there. I followed it purely on the chance of finding shelter for the night." He kept his voice even and spoke without pausing for breath, half expecting her to again threaten him with the blade at any moment.

She withdrew the dagger entirely, hearing the truth in his words, but her countenance didn't soften. If anything, it twisted more cruelly. For the first time he could bring himself to see past the blade, and he noticed that this young woman was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. And also the most evil. The wickedness sloughed off of her like a snake shedding its skin. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes. Her very aura made him cringe.

"Shelter for the night you say? Hm?..." Her voice dripped with a mocking glee. "I do hope you enjoyed your stay, but, alas... the night is over." She painfully dug her fingers into his arm, hauling him upright with shocking strength. She disregarded his injury and ignored his sounds of pain as she dragged him bodily to the front door. He realized her intentions were to throw him back into the wilderness even with his leg freshly broken, and he began to struggle in her punishing grip, not catching her notice in the slightest.

"Please, you must let me stay! Just a few days, let me borrow some wood and bandages to make a proper splint. I can hunt for you, I can gather! If you chuck me out I will die within days!" He pleaded desperately, yet he might as well have been begging blood from a stone for all the reaction he got from her.

They reached the doors and she leaned into them, giving a violent shove.

Nothing happened.

She unexpectedly let go of Dash and he collapsed in a heap, covering his head as she, in a blind rage, began to kick and flail at the door, slamming her body against it again and again, hurling a teapot, a candelabra and a fine gold and chestnut mantel clock at the stubborn door, all of which were demolished upon impact.

"Damn you! This is MY house!!!" He swore she screamed so loudly the windows shook.

He initially assumed she was shrieking at him "I swear, my lady, I had nothing to do with the door, I just came through it last night..." He trailed off when he noticed her attention was turned inward, frustration and fury making her skin flush. She grabbed fistfuls of her hair and paced frantically.

Suddenly she stilled and he shrank back when her cruel face turned to him. "It seems you are our guest. At least for the immediate future." She smiled, but it did nothing to warm her features. If anything, it terrified him further. "Shall I show you to your room?"

\-----

The wretched hag had forced him up what felt like hundreds of steps, offering no support, just prodding him painfully in the back with her dagger whenever she decided he was moving too slowly. She finally made him stop before a heavy wooden door. She opened it and roughly shoved him inside without ceremony. The door slammed and locked and there was her face, in the tiny window that was hidden a moment before, sneering at him. "I do hope you enjoy your stay." The window's shutter slammed with a reverberating wooden clap.

Dash was in such pain, so disgusted and enraged, he clenched his fists and spat into the bucket that served as the room's only furniture. The room was square, barely wide enough to lay down. It was crafted from stone and its atmosphere was cool and damp. He noticed a miniscule window, more a crack really, in the far wall and he crawled over to it. Peering out he saw woods, the mountains, the autumn sky. All the view did was make him feel even more utterly imprisoned.

He spent the remainder of the day cursing his broken leg and his hunger, but most of all the strange and vile woman who held him captive. As the sun sunk below the mountains the temperature in his cell chilled until he could see his breath in the air. Tremors wracked his freezing body, often violent enough to painfully jar his now heated and swollen leg. He prayed for the sweet embrace of unconsciousness, but the jolts of adrenaline to his system ensured that he was awake and acutely aware of each agonizing second.

He felt tears threaten and his face became hot. He clenched his eyes tightly and tried to imagine he was tracking a deer through dappled woods on a pleasant spring day. He, surprisingly, succeeded with his distraction until an especially frigid gust bit into him and made him shudder, the agony of his jostled leg becoming unbearable.

Something wet and cool touched his hand. He stilled, despair overtaking him. It must be the woman again with some new inventive torture. He knew he couldn't bear another round with her tonight. He stayed as still as his shivering bones would allow.

The wet thing shifted and his fingers were plunged suddenly into what felt like heated velvet. His eyes snapped open and his blood ran cold as he found himself face to face with the largest leopard he had ever seen. His breath stilled in his throat. For a time both he and the cat were motionless, their eyes locked together, his hazel with the cat's green, his hand still buried in the fur behind her ears.

Eventually she huffed into his face, her breath warm and moist. It startled him so much that he nearly jumped out of his skin. She moved to nose at the makeshift splint on his leg and proceeded to bite and tug it loose, then did the same to the torn and bloody leg of his breeches underneath. He watched her, bewildered, unsure if she were going to eat him alive. At least he would be warm again, he thought grimly, covered with her furred body and his own blood.

The remains of his splint and the leg of his breeches fell away and the cat surprised him with a gentle stroke of her rough tongue along his wounds. He lay passively for quite some time, watching her bathe his battered leg. With every pass of her tongue the pain lessened. He felt his bruises vanish, his broken skin mend, his torn muscles knit and his bones snap back together. By the time she was done his leg felt right as rain.

Dash grinned at her and stroked behind her ears. She answered him with a rumbling purr. Suddenly a spicy scent filled the room. He looked down and saw a steaming bowl of thick stew beside his knee. He looked back at the cat and she gave him a slow blink, her purr never stopping. He gratefully ate the stew, offering a few chunks of meat to the leopard.

His injuries healed, his stomach full, and his body warm cuddled against endless fur, Dash was content and soon found himself sound asleep, dreaming again of green eyes.

\-----

He woke alone to a cell again furnished with only a bucket. He almost thought his visit with the cat last night had been a dream, except for the fact that his leg was completely healed. He had seen magic before, and had even crafted many simple potions himself, but never before had he witnessed a creature performing such gentle and generous acts of enchantment.

The door slammed open and the vicious woman was back. Her face was different today... It was still unpleasant, cruel, but he found he could look at her a bit more directly without threat of losing his dinner. He got to his feet, preparing for her wrath. But none came. Just icy, distant regard.

"I see you can stand. That shall be... convenient. Come." She turned and marched away, entirely confident that he would obey her command. And he did. He figured anywhere she could take him would be better than his cold and barren cell.

She stopped before an ornately carved door and opened it with a flourish. Inside was a bedroom, simple but warm and comfortable. She followed him inside. "You shall stay in here. Do not attempt to open the door, I will know and you will be severely punished." She grabbed his chin with her claw-like fingers and forced his head to turn toward her own. He stared fixedly at her nose. "Am I understood?"

Her voice chilled him to the bone. He almost felt as if he were freezing in his cell again. He nodded haltingly "Y... Yes, ma'am." He managed to utter.

She stared at him for another moment before snatching her hand away from his face and storming out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

He glanced out the small window, the same tableau of woods and mountains stretched out into the distance. He explored the small wardrobe; it was empty. He laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He contemplated his stomach, hungry again. He was utterly bored.

Impulsively he rose from the bed and crouched beside the cold fireplace. A half charred log rested atop a pile of fresh wood. He broke a splinter from a whole log and, rubbing the tip in the charred wood, he fashioned a crude pencil. He found a smooth, clear spot on one of the stone walls and began to draw.

He drew for hours. Things he knew intimately, like the three-petaled pale blossom that was the perfect base for a potent fever remedy. He drew things he had only seen in his mind, like the pair of deep, disarming eyes that he had dreamed of for as long as he could remember. As dusk settled outside his window he scrambled to finish his final and most detailed drawing- a beautiful, massive black leopard.

He added the final details as the last sliver of sun slipped behind the mountains. He would have to wait for the light of the morning to properly view his completed work. He stood, turned, dropped the sliver of wood and his charred palette back into the fireplace and was brushing the charcoal off of his hands when he noticed the large cat sprawled, perfectly relaxed, on the bed.

He smiled at her and felt a rush of fondness. He possessed a natural affinity for animals as it was, and this mysterious cat had rescued him and had been his only touch of warmth in this godforsaken manor. He sat beside her on the bed and began petting her broad head in the way she had shown she enjoyed. She began to purr deeply and slowly and her eyes drifted shut in that slow blink that told him she was content.

"I wanted to thank you for caring for me last night. I am fully convinced I would not have survived 'til morning were it not for you." He initiated a one-sided conversation, finding the act of speaking to another living being considerably eased his loneliness in this strange, cold manor. She continued to purr. "I spent the day drawing. There was some leftover charcoal from a fire... I drew you... We'll have to wait until daylight to properly see it. I'm curious to see what you think." Her purr oddly faltered for a moment, but he assumed it had been a hiccup. "I do so enjoy drawing. I lost my pack when I was injured in the woods. There was a sketchbook inside. Potions recipes... Diagrams of edible plants... Pressed flowers to research later. All lost..." He trailed off, scratching behind her ears absently before shaking himself out of it. "Ah, well. No use tracking caught game, I always say."

She blinked again and he was startled when the fire spontaneously lit and a plate of roast pheasant bedded on peas and onions appeared on his lap. His brows raised in surprise and then he smiled warmly at her, ruffling the fur on the back of her neck. "You are absolutely wonderful." He praised her. He tucked into his dinner then, missing the decidedly un-leopard-like sparkle in her eyes.

\-----

He fell asleep nestled in the warmth of the leopard, cuddling her and feeling safe. His dreams were pleasant. He was wrapped in deerskin, resting under the stars. A stream bubbled nearby and his belly was comfortably filled. It was the most blissful he could ever remember feeling.

This made the shock all the greater when he opened his eyes to see the face of the woman inches from his own, incongruously haloed with sunlight. At least this time she wasn't holding a dagger.

She stood and the halo effect lessened, a slightly bitter expression now visible on her face. "Breakfast is ready. You will come down."

With that she turned with a swish of skirts and disappeared out the door. He blinked several times, wondering if he were still dreaming. He decided even if it were a dream version of the woman he would rather not antagonize her, so he hoisted himself out of bed and down the stairs, half expecting it all to be another cruel trick.

He found her after just a little exploring (he was a tracker, after all) in a small formal dining room, already having made a dent in her eggs and toast. He stood uncertainly. She took her time chewing and swallowing before glaring at him. "Sit!" She ordered, gesturing vaguely to a place set with a full plate of food. He obeyed quickly, sitting down and digging into his meal with gusto.

She ate a few more bites before speaking. "Who are you?" It was a common enough question but he had never heard it uttered with such venom, as if she were an inquisitor and he were a suspected killer.

He cleared his throat. "My name is Dashing." After a moment of silence he glanced at her. She gave no indication she had heard him. He nervously cleared his throat and continued, trying to fill the awkward quiet. "I'm a ranger, as I said before. I apprenticed from the time I could hold a bow with the legendary ranger Hauk. I've been on my own for several years. I..."

"I've change my mind. I could not care less, honestly. Please stop talking." She cut him off mid-sentence. They finished their meal in uncomfortable silence. The second she swallowed the last bite on her plate she stood and indicated a closed door. "There is a basin in the kitchen. You will clean the dishes." She spun and took her leave.

He finished his meal and proceeded to scrub the dishes, planning to conceal a small amount of food on his person in case the woman neglected to feed him again. When he searched the cupboards, however, he found only a triangle of hard cheese and a few rotted potatoes. It confused him, the idea that the cruel woman would share her last real food with him.

When the dishes were clean he decided to roam the manor for a while, or at least until she decided to sequester him in his room again. The domicile was largely unremarkable, the library being a notable exception. It was filled floor to ceiling with ancient and unfamiliar titles. He flipped through several and found they were spell books. That was interesting.

He found several empty bedrooms, a music room with lovely acoustics and a grand piano, and a beautiful stained glass solarium that contained a half dozen carefully tended rose bushes.

He made his way back to the entry hall, with the fireplace where he had spent his first evening here. The woman was sitting in the center of the sofa, reading a book. He took a seat in one of the armchairs that flanked the sofa, and waited to be treated to yet another of the woman's diatribes.

She was silent for a long time, engrossed in her book. Dash let his mind wander. He was halfway through mentally cataloging all the edible fungi he was familiar with when he felt the weight of a gaze upon him. He looked toward the woman and was surprised to see a contemplative expression on her face, rather than her usual vitriol-filled one.

"You really are a very skilled ranger." Her statement left him baffled and confused until his eyes dropped to the book in her hands. His book. His beloved journal. There were the familiar smudges on the bottom of the pages where he often held it open with his dirty thumb while jotting notes in the wild. There were the edges of leaves and flowers he had pressed and used as markers to save his most referenced pages. His mouth gaped and his brows crinkled. He was completely mystified.

"How... Where...." Instead of answering him she simply held out the book. He took it gently and flipped through its familiar contents, not finding anything missing. "...Thank you..."

"You're... Welcome." As deeply as he had been surprised in the last few moments was nothing compared to the astonishment he felt when the woman's mouth ghosted into a glimmer of a smile. He had never before seen anything like her smile. It changed her entire face, her features seeming to soften, her eyes gentling such that he could almost bring himself to look at them. Her beauty left him breathless. She stood slowly and moved past him, dropping something beside his chair with a thud. When he looked down he saw his pack, containing the entirety of his possessions on this earth. And on the front was a single muddy paw print, as big as his outstretched palm.

\-----

He spent a good portion of the day checking and organizing the contents of his pack and thumbing through his journal. For a few hours he sketched. He drew leaves, landscapes, his leopard, the eyes from his dreams, the woman. The turn of her cheek, the sweep of her hair, the utter beauty of her smile.

After finishing his sketches he wandered the upper floor of the manor, finding the frigid, bare cell, his bedroom, and a room he had not noticed previously containing a bench, a tub and a spigot. He took the opportunity to cleanse himself in a cool and refreshing bath. As he emerged from the water, now with much less dirt on his body and much more in the bath water, he noticed his clothes were damp but clean and mended, and someone had left him a cloth to dry himself.

When he came downstairs the woman invited him to dine with her again, and she served venison with wild rice and mushrooms. He thought it was strange how her cupboard had been bare earlier today and now she served them such an elaborate meal. But after the first delicious bite he forgot to be concerned with where the meal had come from.

After dinner he moved to clear the dishes and the woman came with him. They washed the dishes together in silence. When they were done she fleetingly glanced his way and walked out. He moved to follow but she was nowhere to be found. So clean, fed, and with his trusty pack on his shoulder he climbed the stairs and went to bed.

The leopard was waiting for him. He curled up beside her and fell asleep to the soothing sound of her purr.

\-----

Very early in the morning he woke and went looking for the woman. He found her tending her roses. Her hands were gentle and skilled, snipping off dead blooms and plucking any weeds audacious enough to pop their heads out of the soil. She was so different now than when he had first seen her. She worked with a tiny smile playing on her lips, and he found he couldn't look away.

One corner of her mouth quirked up. "Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to help?" She handed him gloves and pruning scissors and pointed to the plant beside hers. He took to the task with slight trepidation- he was familiar with wild flora but had no experience caring for cultivated plants such as her roses. Being a resourceful man, he watched her, discretely copying her ministrations as exactly as he could on his own rose bush.

When they were both finished she straightened and closed her eyes, stretching in a backward arc with her gloved hands pressing on the small of her back. He found he was unable to look away from her. She caught him staring and turned away so he wouldn't see her smile.

"Are you hungry? It's nearly breakfast time." She began to walk-not stomp, not storm, not thunder- just walk with a pace and an energy that had him following her without thought.

"I could help you prepare the meal..." He started.

"No!" The word was harsh and she immediately sighed, speaking again with a notably more gentle tone. "Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I enjoy cooking." They reached the dining room and she slipped into the kitchen, emerging an instant later with place settings for two. "If you wouldn't mind... setting the table?" She glanced at him shyly, placing the dishes and cutlery in his outstretched hands before retreating back into the kitchen.

It took him only a moment to set the table and he settled into his seat, expecting it to take at least several more minutes for her to prepare their breakfast. To his surprise, he hadn't even time for his mind to wander before she was back, putting a plate filled with steaming bacon, tomatoes and biscuits before him, placing an identical plate in front of herself, sitting and taking a bite of her bacon.

He just stared at her, thinking about how strange this place was. This woman whose personality was changing before his very eyes, the food that seemed to come from thin air. And that wasn't even counting the magic cat... 

He cleared his throat and her eyes flicked to him before darting away. "Are you going to eat your breakfast?" She queried nervously.

He leaned toward her just a bit. He realized he was no longer afraid of her and with a rush of boldness he set out to get some answers. He started quietly. "What is happening in this house? Why is your own front door locked to you? Why is there no food in your kitchen? Why did you say I was 'our' guest when you and I are obviously the only two people here? Why is your library filled with spell books yet I have never heard of you in the magical community? What is the story with that bloody wonderful leopard of yours..." She had been entirely silent, swallowing her mouthful of breakfast, staring at her plate. The moment he mentioned the cat her eyes widened with shock and she interrupted him.

"You've seen her." It was not a question.

"Of course. She healed me, she fed me. She kept me warm." This earned an even more incredulous look from the woman. Her voice was barely a whisper as she answered him.

"You... you've touched her?" She scanned his body with her eyes as if looking for something that wasn't there. "She didn't hurt you?"

A puzzled expression overtook his features. "No... she saved me."

Their eyes locked properly for the first time, the woman's deep green eyes brimming with tears. Instantly he knew to whom those eyes belonged that had haunted his dreams since he was a child. The eyes that had carried him through the death of his mother. The eyes that gave him the courage to brave the wilds alone after his mentor had informed him his tutelage was complete. The eyes that had allowed him to quiet his mind enough to craft a makeshift splint after tumbling down a hill and fracturing his leg. The eyes that gave him the strength to walk on splintered bones for hours until finding shelter in this very manor.

"Cait..." He whispered her name, bewildered as she came back to him, disbelieving that he could have ever forgotten. They were children. He was a ranger's apprentice and she was an apprentice witch in this very manor. He hunted these grounds. He gathered magic herbs for her. She was his first kiss. She was his best friend. And even as he remembered her, she seemed to remember herself. Her tears spilled free as her face regained the entirety of its kindness, its wonder at all the world had to offer, its love.

"Dash..." They moved closer to one another, leaning in, each of them suddenly knowing where they belonged.

A black cat interrupted their moment, leaping onto the table between them, nuzzling Caitrin's face and licking her tears. Dash couldn't help but laugh. And then he was being licked and nuzzled and Cait found herself laughing for the first time in years. And then Dash was brushing the cat aside and kissing her... the woman... his woman... his Caitrin. And he was home.

\-----

Several seasons later, Dash waltzed through the open front doors of their manor, flourishing a brace of rabbits proudly. There were two boys and a girl trailing behind him, each with a rabbit of their own. He entered the kitchen and Cait smiled at them, quickly snatching up several spell books that she had laid out on the table, the two girls and two boys who had been studying with her snatching up their own journals.

Dash plopped the prey down on the now clear table, and his trio of apprentices followed suit. The smallest of the three was a boy with freckles and red hair. "We caught dinner!" He squeaked proudly. Dash grinned proudly and Cait smiled fondly at them all.

"How are the littles?" He asked even as he walked into the living room. Cait came after him and he put his arm around her as they both paused to watch the twin girls, their smallest charges, the black cat between them on the sofa, a bonnet on her head and her fur half covered in ribbons. She looked at the couple irritably but held perfectly still for the twins.

Something in the library exploded with a resounding boom and the husband and wife looked at each other.

"I'll take care of it." Cait pecked him quickly on the mouth, but he put a hand softly on the back of her neck and deepened their kiss. A chorus of embarrassed admonishment at the blatant show of affection rose from all of their orphans except the twins, who were busy decorating the incredibly tolerant cat and the two older boys in the library, who were about to get a tongue lashing from Cait.

As she went to inspect the damage and hand out extra chores to the guilty parties Dash smiled. He was grateful he had found her again, and that the spell had broken. She and the cat had come out the other side of the magic changed, each of them releasing the worst parts of themselves and adopting the best parts of the other.

The cat was gentle now, kind. But he had watched her once face down a badger that had come too close to their children. And Cait was forceful and confident... He smiled as he heard her raise her voice in the library "You tried to do WHAT!?"... But she was still the most compassionate, patient, loving soul he had ever met.

He did wish he had found her sooner, that the spell had broken sooner, but, as he always told his apprentices, no use tracking caught game.

Dash, Cait, and the cat were together, they were content, and they were home.

 

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.

\-----  
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End file.
